


Dreams and Anguish

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Harry Potter Next Generation, Heterosexual Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Public Sex, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-14
Updated: 2010-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-27 12:43:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10809279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: When a tragic attack makes Rose into a victim, will it be too familiar  for Hermione and Ron to handle?





	Dreams and Anguish

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

_“Ideologies separate us. Dreams and anguish bring us together.”_

-Eugene Ionesco

Why did it always end up this way?

Today was the first day of Rose's internship with the Ancient Artefacts department at the Ministry. Her uncle Bill had been putting her through the motions to become a Curse Breaker, and this was the last qualification she needed before she was put into the training program at Gringotts. She put herself together impeccably well, wearing her best robes, and arranging her long hair in an elegant twist. She was filled with excitement and promise as she opened up those double doors.

Her excitement dissipated the moment she walked through the doors. _He_ was there, talking happily with the curator of the department, and laughing loudly at some sort of snide joke the man had made. Her face burned red. All through school they competed, trying to get the better of the other, only to almost always finish out as equals. This internship was supposed to be her last step to finally coming out on top. She was going to best him, and it was going to taste sweet.

So why, by the time the supervisor had left and they were told to close up the department, did Rose find herself slammed up against the wall, his tongue plunging into her mouth with such an intensity that her entire body melted?

Because it did always end up this way, and Rose was too weak to ever stop it. They were enemies, competitors, and nothing near lovers…but every time they were alone, it was like something was forcing them together. It had been going on since the summer after their last year of Hogwarts, and every time Rose thought she had escaped, she'd see his haughty, aristocratic face and fly to him once more. His hungry gaze when he looked at her made her quiver until neither one of them could hold back. It was always, rough, quick, and the best sex she had ever had.

Scorpius Malfoy pressed closer to her, grinding his erection against her as he began to nip and suck at her neck. She ran her nails over his clothed back, wrapping her legs more tightly around his waist and groaning with need. His hand went up her skirt, warm palms pressing against her thighs and toying with the lace top of her stockings momentarily. He pulled back, his deep blue eyes gazing at her with intensity, before covering her mouth with his once more. One of his hands tangled in her hair, pulling her head to the side and exposing her neck before he sucked her skin into his mouth roughly. Rose thrust her hips against his with need.

"Merlin, you're gorgeous," Scorpius growled. Her robes had been shed long before, and now he tore at the buttons on her simple white dress shirt. Scorpius' grip slipped, and so Rose finished tearing off her shirt, lifting his over his head. She knew this was a one off against the wall of a back office, but she needed to see that pale, thin, and cut chest move against her own freckled skin. Scorpius nipped at the top of her rounded breasts, and held out his hand, his wand flying into it. All of a sudden, Rose felt weightless.

"That's better," Scorpius murmured, taking both of his hands out from under her skirt and pulling her breasts out of the top of her simple white bra. When Scorpius' teeth pulled at one of her pink nipples, Rose wrapped her long, thin legs around him. She barely even touched the wall anymore, his weightless spell allowing her to hold herself up on him. His hand grabbed her arse again, clawing at her underwear until they could be pulled off of her in shreds.

He reached down and ran his fingers over her folds. He groaned as she cried out, and soon two of his fingers were thrusting slowly in and out of her. She kicked her heeled feet against him, urging his hips forward. She needed more. She was desperate to be filled…and only by him. She wanted him more than she had ever wanted anyone, but she would never tell him that. She couldn't seem weak. His fingers left her centre and she heard the clanging of his belt.

Soon, she felt the head of his cock rub over her clit, and she thrust forward to try to take him inside of her. Her nails dug into his bare shoulder, and he cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure. Rose thought she would explode if he didn't fuck her right in that moment.

"Say my name," He growled, lightly biting her earlobe.

"Malfoy," She gasped, smirking slightly.

"Say it," He groaned, letting his cock get painfully close to entering her.

"Scorpius," She whispered.

He entered her swiftly, and she threw her head back. He ran his tongue up her throat as he thrust roughly in and out of her. She tried to rock against him, but the spell had taken away a lot of her leverage. Her back kept slamming against the wall in time with Scorpius' movements, and Scorpius grabbed her hair, pulling it out of its elegant twist to hold her head steady and kiss her. This kiss was surprisingly gentle as Scorpius started thrusting less rhythmically and a little more slowly. He was moaning in the back of his throat as their tongues danced languidly around one another. He reached down and began to run his hands slowly over her clit.

"Gods, Scorpius, I'm so close," Rose groaned, bringing her head down to his shoulder.

"Going to make you come so hard," Scorpius whispered, increasing his speed again until he was pounding into her fiercely.

Rose let out a keening cry, leaning down and biting hard on his bare shoulder as her nails dug into him. Her body tensed and she could feel her walls grip him tightly as pleasure rippled through her over and over again.

"Oh Rose…Rose…" Scorpius whispered, burying his face in her neck, where her hair was currently bunched wildly, half falling out of its styling. Her body began to go limp, and she hung boneless under the spell. "Finite."

Rose began to sink toward the floor, her legs falling off of Scorpius' hips. He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her tightly to him for a moment as their breath caught. She wound her long arms around his neck. They stood there, forehead to forehead, foe to foe, catching their breath. They were even equals in height and general size, though if Rose were honest with herself, he was much more muscular, while she was just ridiculously thin in her mind. Rose found herself revelling in his touch and he drew lazy circles on her back. She quickly snapped herself out of it.

She silently gathered up her clothes, casting various repairing charms until they looked presentable again. She put her clothes on with surprising speed, slipped on her heels and her work robes, and went over to the mirror. She ran her wand over her wild, red, curly hair until it was back and tamed in its twist. Then, she quietly walked back out to the main room, trying to keep the smile from her face and her hips from swaying back and forth. Scorpius didn't need to know the hold he had on her…not when she meant nothing but sex to him.

(((((((((((((((())))))))))))))))))))

Scorpius' heart was still pounding wildly in his chest as he began to gather up his clothes and redress. He kept glancing up at Rose surreptitiously, and every single time he watched the swing of her hips or the cascade of her hair, he wondered how he had found himself at this point. Every time he saw her, his body lit on fire. He wanted her, every inch of her, along with every fibre of her being. However, when they repeatedly found themselves at odds in ideology while at the same time attempting to accomplish the same goals, the apparent animosity grew. Scorpius would rather forget it all. The bitterness and competitive nature of their relationship wasn't the best part, and if it meant he got to touch her like that whenever he wanted, Scorpius would let it all go.

In school, he and Rose were always up for the same honours. They had both become Heads, and fought hard to get the 'Top of the Class' distinction. In the end, they ended up getting the exact same scores, and that seemed worse. They were in every one of the same NEWTs classes, and when career day came about; they both indicated a desire to go into Curse Breaking. His father and her father and uncle also had an infamous rivalry, often saying snide remarks about one another to their children. Couple this with the fact that Scorpius was from a pure-blooded family that valued society and name, while Rose was from a big, loud, 'everyone is welcome' sort of family, and you had a stark reminder of how different they were.

Scorpius didn't care. He just didn’t care anymore. All of it seemed pointless. All of the money, the power, the values…they meant nothing when he looked in those haunting blue eyes.

However, he could never say any of that to Rose. Their worlds were so different, and their lives were set to parallel each other in every way. To bridge over those separate lines would take such a leap of faith that Scorpius feared he would lose himself in the process. They couldn't deny the attraction though, the tangible need to touch, feel, and claim the other. The only way they could even go on as they had was to indulge in the hasty, emotion free encounters as they had just experienced.

Rose walked out of the back room first, and Scorpius' heart sank a little bit further when she didn't even spare him a look back. As long as he lived, regardless if he ever told her how he really felt or not, he'd always remember the look on her face when she thought he wasn't paying attention, or the way her hands gripped his shoulders with a need that almost silently spoke "Please, don't let go." She was everything to him, and she would never know it because they both feared the consequences of letting down your walls for just one moment.

Scorpius fastened his impeccably designed work robes, the kind that would cost more than three months of what Rose's parents made, and spared one last glance in the mirror before he made his way out of the back room. He ran his hands through his smooth, blond hair, attempting to get it back to its original style. He adjusted the collar of his shirt over his robes, rubbed his hands over his face in a futile gesture intended to snap him out of his current thought process, and returned to his latest internship.

Rose was currently waving her wand over various artefacts, updating the preservation spells and verifying the security spells. Scorpius decided to pick up the checklist and do the nightly check to ensure that everything that was there at the opening of the department would be there at the closing. He heard Rose call out a cheerful greeting as the charm sounded the arrival of someone, but didn’t glance up from his work.

"Expelliarmus!" Someone suddenly shouted, and before Scorpius could even register what was happening, his wand flew out of his hand. He dashed over the desk to stand in front of Rose as the two men began to approach them with menacing grins and their wands twirling in their fingers. One man was very tall and large; his broad shoulders making him look more like he was made of stone than he was flesh and bone. The other man was small and mousy, gray hair and thin build coupled with buck teeth made him look more rat-like than any man Scorpius had ever seen. Both men were wearing long black robes and crooked, vengeful smiles.

"What is the meaning of this? This is a Ministry Department! Spells of that nature are not to be used," Rose said, grabbing at her wand. Scorpius could hear her voice shaking, even as she tried sounding sharp.

"Where is the Orb of Isis?" The small man shouted.

"I've never heard of such a thing," Rose said, breathing in and looking taller as she did so.

The larger man grabbed Rose's robes and shoved his wand roughly against her neck. Scorpius jumped at the larger man without even thinking, and was promptly thrown against a wall. When the stars cleared from Scorpius' eyes and his ears stopped ringing, he saw the large man dragging Rose around the room by her hair. He rose in an attempt to assist her again, but found a wand pressed to his temple.

"Well if it isn't the Malfoy heir. Tell me, you rich poncy son of a Death Eater, do you know where the Orb is?" The rat-faced man said, digging his wand into Scorpius' scalp painfully.

"I have no fucking idea what you are talking about, you filthy jackass!" Scorpius shouted.

He barely finished his sentence before the man's heavy steel-toed boot connected to Scorpius' jaw. Pain rang through him and he struggled to bring himself back up on the ground.

"Every piece of information we have says the Orb is right here, stop being the Ministry's bitch and let us have it! We promise we won't hurt you…much," The man sneered before snapping his fingers.

The large man dragged Rose over to them, her whimpers echoing through the large room as his oppressive fist gripped her hair tightly.

"Why don’t you let her go? She doesn't know either. If you have a quarrel, have it with me!" Scorpius said, still dizzy from the hits, but thinking only about getting Rose out of what was quickly turning into a deadly situation.

"Crucio!" The hulking man growled. Suddenly, Rose's body began to thrash, going limp and she hung grotesquely by her hair in the man's grip.

Scorpius leapt forward, ignorant of the wand threatening to harm him, and tried to grab for Rose. He had no other thoughts than making it stop, to keep her protected, and he didn't care what that meant for him. He managed to reach her flailing leg before something flung him back against the wall. Another flick of Rat Man's wand, and Scorpius was gagged.

"Had enough, Sweetie? Wanna tell me where it is now?" The Rat Man sneered at her as the Hulking Man's wand danced over her twitching body mockingly.

"Please," Rose cried, her voice catching in her throat and her face covered in tears.

"Where the fuck is it, you fucking whore!" Rat Man shouted in her face.

"We're just interns, we don't…"

"Crucio!" The Hulking man yelled again, and Rose's screams invaded Scorpius' ears.

Scorpius managed to raise his broken body enough to grab the Rat Man by the back of the neck and bring him down. The distraction ended Rose's cries, but now all attention was turned onto him. Scorpius was lost in a barrage of kicks in the stomach and punches to his face, the pain overwhelming him. He wanted to be sick, but the constant movement wouldn't allow him to. Soon, the violence ended, but Scorpius couldn't even see through his black and blue eyes…he couldn't even breathe without feeling like his ribs were piercing his lungs.

"We'll stop if you tell us…but if not…we'll just keep going until she dies of it. She'll give up on her own soon enough," Rat Man sneered, snapping his fingers while never taking his beady eyes off of Scorpius. The Hulking Man shouted the curse again, and Rose's screams threatened to rip Scorpius apart from the inside. He had no idea what this Orb was, or what they wanted with it. But at this point, Scorpius was desperate to give them the Elder Wand itself if it meant Rose would stop screaming.

The cries of pain stopped again, and Scorpius felt a swift kick in his stomach. "Do you think the little woman has had enough, or does she want more?" The smaller man asked in a falsely sweet tone.

"You're a fucking coward. You think torturing someone is a show of strength. You're just afraid to fight like a real man," Scorpius spat, bloody mucous covering the smaller man's boots. Suddenly, his head was slammed hard against the wall and he heard a sickening crack.

As he tried to move his body, he heard Rose's screams recommence and his entire world went black.

(((((((((((((((((()))))))))))))))))

Ron Weasley wiggled his toes happily as he settled his feet on the red velvet ottoman in his living room. His feet ached from another long day at The Ministry, and he was glad to be off duty for a few days. Hugo was coming home tomorrow for the summer after his final term at Hogwarts, and Ron was looking forward to seeing his son for the first time since Easter Holidays. He sighed as the evening cross breeze from the open windows whipped across his worn out body, cooling his exposed neck.

Hermione came in, sighing at the breeze as well as she sat down on the sofa next to Ron. She sat two glasses and a bottle of her favourite port on the table in front of them. She had changed out of her Ministry robes and severe heels and into a gauzy white top and very short khaki shorts. Ron loved the caramel colour of her skin, and seeing so much of it caused all the blood to rush south. His wife remained the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. Her hair was beginning to fall out of its charm, and Ron smiled at the knowledge that soon it would be a massive mane of curls he could get his fingers lost in.

"Want some, sweetie?" Hermione said, tucking her bare feet underneath her and reaching out to pour herself some wine. Ron nodded. He didn’t really like the taste of wine, but he loved the look of Hermione drinking it so much, he always found himself achingly thirsty once she started in. When taking her first sip, she would always close her eyes and let the liquid drop slowly down her throat, dipping her head back so that Ron could see the muscles in her neck move. Today was no different, and he felt his mouth water as he watched his wife enjoy her wine, her scrumptious neck exposed and begging to be ravaged.

Ron sat his untouched wine on the table and latched his lips on to Hermione's exposed pulse point. She whimpered a little, reaching back to place her glass on the end table before entwining her hands in Ron's hair. Ron loved it when her hands were in his hair, even after all these years; her touch always sparked something inside of him. He worked his way up to the back of her ear, pausing to whisper in it.

"Last night with the house to ourselves before Hugo gets home," He said, his hand teasing the bottom of Hermione's flowing shirt. Sure, Rose still lived there, but she always got home so late from her job that Ron and Hermione found themselves enjoying a lot of alone time. He slowly moved his hand up her shirt, running it over her smooth skin and enjoying the little shudder that ran through her body. While his other hand tangled in her hair, he took the hand that was up her shirt and slowly snaked it up her thigh. When his hand went high enough to brush along her dripping wet centre, Ron thanked whoever it was that had invented small khaki shorts.

He slowly pushed until she was laying back on the couch, and proceeded to lavish kisses on her neck again, licking softly every now and then for good measure. She always tasted amazing, and Ron let out a groan of want against her skin.

"Oh Ron," Hermione moaned.

Suddenly, someone clearing their throat made Ron leap up off of the couch immediately, clasping his hands in front of him to hide anything embarrassing.

"There are four bedrooms in this house, you know. Not to mention a library. But please, stay away from my room, and I need the library tonight," Hugo said, standing in the doorway next to his trunk with another heavy canvas duffle slung over his massive shoulders. He had a wide grin on his face, which seemed to widen as Ron's face began to turn bright red.

Hugo cast an impressive shadow. While he wasn’t nearly as tall as Ron, he more than made up for it in build. Ron had to chuckle at the memory of how thin he was when he was Hugo's age, looking like he was stretched too far. While he had definitely filled out and was quite proud of how cut he was, Ron used to be almost painfully lanky. Rose definitely got that from him. Hugo, on the other hand, had massively broad shoulders, well defined thick arms, and a solid roundness to him that would fit well in the Beater position on the Quidditch pitch. He was the spitting image of Hermione's father, right down to the deep brown hair and matching eyes. Dr. Granger also had an impressive and intimidating musculature, coming to him naturally despite his less than physical job.

Sometimes Ron would daydream about his muscular son rising to Quidditch fame, but he knew better than to expect that. Hugo was a quiet young man, more apt to spend his free time in the library and deep in thought. If it weren't for the quiet part, he would be very similar to his mother. As a matter of fact, Hugo rarely even spoke up, let alone spoke at all. He was a sharp contrast to Rose. Both of their children were intelligent and ambitious, but Rose added a distinctive Weasley fire and assertiveness to her spirit, while Hugo simmered subtly like a Granger.

"Oi! This is my house and this is my wife! I will ravage her where I want!" Ron said mockingly as Hermione leapt off the couch to give her son a hug. She looked even more petite than usual as Hugo wrapped her up in a warm hug.

Just as Hugo's slight smirk was about to turn into what was likely to be a scathing and witty retort, the Floo flared up very suddenly.

"Ron! Hermione!" Seamus Finnigan shouted, looking grave. Ron was panicking in an instant, fearing something may have happened to Harry on the mission tonight.

"Seamus. What is it?" Ron said, leaning close to the fire and Seamus' suspended head.

"There's been an attack…in…in the artefacts department," Seamus said haltingly. "You should come…"

Hermione let out a choked gasp, and Ron's stomach seemed to fall to the floor. He willed his legs to keep working and stiffened his spine. He had to get to Rose as soon as possible. Regardless of what was going on, he knew more than anything she needed him. She may have been her own woman now, but that didn't mean he wasn't still Daddy on occasion. Ron's jaw shook with the effort to stay calm as he slipped on his boots and guided Hermione with him toward the fire. She stiffened her spine as well, but her body trembled and her face was wet with tears. Ron grabbed a handful of Floo powder, trying to remember how to speak again.

"Ministry of Magic!" Hugo shouted, and Ron had no time to be surprised that he was accompanying them before he dropped the Floo powder and the green flames encased them.

Ron was barely aware of his surroundings when they spun out of the Floo. He clutched at Hermione's hand desperately, hearing Hugo's heavy footsteps on the other side of her. They were running, but it didn't feel like running. Ron's body was absolutely numb with worry. Seamus didn't elaborate, but he didn't have to, it was written all over his face. If anything had happened to his little girl, Ron knew he'd fall apart. He was thankful Hugo was there. Ever the strong and stoic one, Hugo would make sure Hermione was okay once Ron lost his mind.

The lift doors opened automatically as soon as they began to approach them.

"Sixth Floor," Ron croaked as the doors closed.

The lift jolted into action, pulling them backwards before shooting them up. Hermione turned to Ron then, burying her head in his chest and sobbing openly. Hugo had a calming hand on his shoulder as Ron wrapped his arms around his wife. The lift seemed to move on and on forever, though Ron knew from experience the ride could be no more than thirty seconds. The seconds stretched on to eternity as he frantically waiting to get to his daughter.

When the lift opened, they were met with an eruption of noise. It seemed as though the entire Auror Department was there, casting revealing spells, questioning witnesses, and even taking some photographs. Every head seemed to turn in Ron's direction, and his heart was racing in fear. He looked around frantically for Harry, for something to ground him back and tell him what was going on, but he saw nothing. Suddenly, a deafening wail could be heard from the artefacts room, and Ron thought he would be sick. Hermione ceased to move, and Hugo had to take her by the shoulders and push her gently forward.  
Rose's cries could be heard all the way from the other end of the hall, and Ron was now finding it difficult to breathe. If he didn’t touch her, look at her immediately, he thought he would cease to exist. He whispered her name and ran faster still, leaving Hugo and Hermione behind in hopes of getting to Rose. As he pushed open the ancient wooden doors, he could hear her whimpering and crying.

"Please, please no more. Don't touch me! Don't touch me!" she was pleading over and over again. Ron found her lying in the centre of the large room. Her long body was curled in on itself, and she was laying on her side with her back to him. Her figure was trembling and crying. Harry was sitting in front of her, his hand hovering over her and his lips close to her ear.

"Rose, love, it's Uncle Harry. You know me. I'm not going to hurt you," Harry said gently as Ron rushed over to them. Harry's hand fell softly on her arm.

"Noooooo! Please stop!" Rose said, curling up into a tighter ball. Harry looked up and met Ron's eyes, his own eyes wet and his face lined with worry. Ron wanted to drop down beside her and cry, but he needed her to know that she wasn't in danger anymore.  
Ron dropped to his knees behind Rose and leaned over, so that his body was arching over hers, with his legs against her back and his arms parallel to her front. He leaned his face really close to her head, trying to ignore her cries to keep himself calm.

"We need to get her examined. We can't put her down with spells because we don’t know what type of damage the curse has done," Harry explained, as Ron tried to figure out the best way to get his daughter coherent and off of the ground.

"What curse?" Hermione asked from behind Ron, her voice shaking.

"Cruciatus," Harry whispered.

Ron suddenly felt dizzy with memory. Seeing Rose, trembling beneath him, her sobs wracking her body, only served to make him remember the last time someone he loved was tortured like this. He could almost hear Hermione's screams; almost feel her limp body as he carried her up to Shell Cottage. He remembered how she clung to him, sobbing, for hours once they got there, Ron in tears as well. By the way Hermione had fallen to the floor next to him and grabbed at his leg and Harry's gaze was locked on Hermione's neck, Ron knew his thoughts weren't unique.

"Rose," Ron said as gently as possible. Rose whimpered in response but her sobbing seemed to have stopped. "Rose, it's Daddy. I'm not gonna hurt you, baby. You're safe now. Everything is fine," Ron was speaking very softly, right into her ear. He took the chance of touching her lightly, brushing some hair back from her forehead.

Looking at her face made Ron feel like his entire body was made of lead. Her eyes were puffy and red, with bruising around both of them. There was blood trickling from both her nose and her mouth, and there was a huge gash along the side of her face. He ran his hand over her head and down her arm, trying to calm her down enough to move her. She turned to look at him, her blue eyes filled with fear.

"He hurt me, Daddy. He just came in here and he hurt me," She cried. She sounded so young, like a little girl again instead of the strong woman she is, and Ron was once again struck by the familiarity of her condition.

"No one is going to hurt you now, love," Ron said. He slowly slid his hands underneath her shoulders and knees, and lifted her up onto his lap, like he used to when she was very small and she had fallen asleep in the playroom. She curled up into his chest, her long body fitting awkwardly against him. Ron closed his eyes and sat there, holding her tightly, and rocking her gently back and forth.

"Apparently, these two came in," Harry said gesturing over to the bound unconscious men on the floor.

"No, Harry. Not now…not right now," Ron murmured, pressing his face against his daughters hair as Hermione knelt down and wrapped her arms around Rose from the other side.

"Which one did it," said Hugo quietly. Ron and Hermione both looked up quickly at the tone of his voice. He was always soft spoken, but the menacing and growling tone of Hugo's voice sent chills down Ron's spine. He had never heard his son even remotely angry, and it was frankly frightening. Harry's eyes widened and he pointed out the larger man as the one who took his wand to Rose.  
   
Hugo walked resolutely over to the unconscious man and drew his wand. Ron managed to swear lightly under his breath.  
"Ennervate," Hugo whispered, and the man came to. "Finite." he said a little more loudly, and the man's bindings fell. Seamus looked to Harry, and Harry gave a very slight nod in his direction.

After Harry's confirming nod, Seamus had turned around and pulled his attention to something in the far corner. The other three Aurors in the room also turned their backs, drawing attention away from the man. Harry kept his eyes and wand trained on the offender. Ron had a pretty good idea what Hugo had in mind, and a very large part of him was glad for it. The hulking man stood, and while Hugo was a rather large young man himself, he looked to be no match for the villain.

"What's your name?" Hugo growled.

"That's none of your business," The large man hissed, shrugging off the remainder of his bindings.

"Well that's of no consequence," Hugo said quietly.

Hugo dropped his wand, and Hermione cried out, clutching her hand to her chest. Ron knew what was going on; it was the same thing bubbling inside of him. And if Rose didn’t need him right now, he'd be joining his son. Ron kept holding onto Rose tightly, his eyes never leaving the putrid man's face.

"Let's see how you fare picking on someone who isn't rendered powerless by a cruel spell, hm?" Hugo said, narrowing his eyes and crouching low.

"Hugo, no!" Hermione shouted, jumping to her feet and running toward him. Ron didn’t know what she had hoped to accomplish, but when it came to her kids, Hermione would have gone to hell and back over and over again. Harry wrapped his arms around Hermione in time to hold her back. He pulled her wand out of her pocket, handed it to her, and she and Harry stood watch on Hugo's endeavours with their wands drawn.

The first blow hit Hugo square across the jaw. Ron cringed, but thought he should give his son enough credit to not look away in fear. Hugo stumbled back, but in the next moment, came at the man again. He suffered another hit to the face, one that spun his entire body around. The main raised his fists again, waiting for Hugo to come back to his senses and smiling menacingly.

"Too bad the Aurors came when they did, she would have made a decent piece of arse. Though she is a might skinny, I'd probably have split her in two!" The man leered at Hugo. Ron's stomach turned, and his entire body clenched with the need to get up and hit that smile off of the man's face. As soon as he moved though, Rose started shaking again and gripped his shoulders tighter. Ron wrapped his arms firmly around his daughter and whispered soothing words in her ear.

Ron would have probably been in the way if he joined the fight anyway. Because now, Hugo's entire face was bright red. While Rose and Ron tended to turn colours at the slightest emotion, this was a new look for Hugo. Ron hadn't seen him that puce since he was born. As Hugo took a deep breath, he seemed to grow and expand to someone of a much greater size. A right hook hit his sister's attacker in the face, and knocked him back.

Instead of waiting for the man to come to, however, Hugo hit him in the face again. He stumbled back and hit the wall before regaining his balance and growling. He ran at Hugo, but the young wizard remained like stone. When the villain approached him, Hugo clenched his fist and his arm pumped like iron against the man's stomach. While he was doubled-over, Hugo took the chance to hit him a few good times in the kidneys before taking his fist and upper cutting against the man's jaw. The hulking, beast of a man, fell limply to the floor at the hands of Ron's son in a matter of minutes. Ron was impressed and worried at the same time.

Ron broke out of his daze when he heard Harry say, very calmly, to stop. Hugo was kicking angrily at the man, causing him to repeatedly double over on the floor. There were angry tears running down his face, mixing with the blood from the first hits he took. He suddenly looked ten years younger than he had just a few seconds ago. Harry approached Hugo slowly, putting a hand on his shoulder. Hugo stopped immediately, and Harry leaned down to heal the man (poorly from the looks of it) and rebind him while he was unconscious. Hermione healed Hugo's nose, the bruise on his jaw, and his painful looking knuckles.

When she was finished healing him, Hermione reached up and put a hand on Hugo's cheek. He broke down in tears and fell into her embrace.

Ron stayed frozen on the floor, holding Rose tightly against him, and trying to calm her shaking sobs so that they could treat her. She was still a complete wreck, and her body convulsed with each heaving cry, but Ron could feel her beginning to relax in his arms. He kept talking to her throughout everything that had happened, hoping to keep her with him…hoping to keep her mind intact.

"He's awake!" Seamus shouted, and Harry rushed over to the far corner behind the desk.

Ron knew that Scorpius Malfoy was the other intern in the artefacts department, but he didn't even realize anyone else was there until that moment. He could only imagine what Scorpius' condition was.

"Rose! Rose! Where is she? What have you done with her?" Scorpius shouted, a level of maniacal panic in his voice that took Ron right back into that familiar and dark memory.

"Scorp," Rose whimpered, crying louder.

"Calm down, mate. She's with her parents. You're in the Ministry of Magic, the Magical Artefacts department. It's Friday, June 6th. There has been an attack, and the men have been apprehended," Seamus' lilting Irish brogue was calm and gentle while he was speaking, and Ron thought it was a far cry from his loud and bawdy dorm mate.

The Mediwitch that Ron hadn't noticed standing to the side immediately rushed forward to the throng of Aurors in the corner. Ron saw the flash of spells and heard a barrage of general injury questions being thrown at Scorpius. Mere moments later, Scorpius was being levitated out of the room. He was barely recognizable, with cuts and bruises swelling his face, and blood staining his normally bright blond hair. Ron looked down at Rose, noticing that the blood was still steadily dripping from her wounds, and knew he'd have to move from their safe little spot.

Ron managed to wedge his feet underneath him, and rise up fully onto his knees. Hugo and Hermione caught the movement and rushed over. Ron moved to hand Rose into Hugo's outstretched arms, but she let out another desperate wail.

"Don't let them take me, Daddy!" She cried, and Ron felt like he was going to be sick. She hadn't called him daddy since she was 10 years old, and tonight that's all she saw him as. Furthermore, she was so paranoid that she didn't realize the situation was different.

This didn't bode well for her mental state. Ron tried to think about getting her to St Mungo's before he approached that line of thought. Hugo took a struggling Rose so that Ron could get up, and she eased a bit when she was placed back in his arms. The way he was holding her, the way she was speaking, the tears on her face…they all made him think of how she was as a small child. Ron swallowed hard and fought back the tears in his eyes as he and his family made their way to the Floo.

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It took 3 days for Rose to wake up. After they rushed her to St. Mungo's and she was treated for her injuries with healing charms and pain potion, they put her into a dreamless sleep to heal. Rose must have needed a lot of healing, because she remained still as death for three agonizing days. Ron and Hermione never left her side, taking offerings of food from family members and showering in the loo attached to Rose's room. When she finally woke up, Hermione held her breath.

Rose turned her head, looked at them, blinked, and then the healers were rushing in. They questioned her about anything even remotely medically relevant, and she answered them as quickly and as quietly as she could. Her voice barely rose above a whisper, and when she spoke, it was barely more than two words. Hermione could feel the sting of tears at seeing Rose look so thoroughly defeated, but held them in as best she could to appear strong for her daughter.

As her recovery wore on, Rose still hadn't spoken much. A mind healer came in, but told an anxious Ron and Hermione that Rose was still woefully monosyllabic about the whole experience. They couldn't even get the exact story from her, and had to wait until Scorpius' concussion was healed and he was fully alert before he could even understand what had happened to them and how. Scorpius was still confined to his own bed, on another floor, not as close to the Janus Thickey ward.

Rose was now one day away from release, and Hermione could feel pleading drop off of her tongue. She wasn't above begging her daughter to talk if that's what it took. Ron was trying to keep them both patient, but she could tell by the look on his face that he was about to fall apart all over again. Suddenly, she cleared her throat, causing both of her parents to startle slightly.

"He dragged me by my hair first. He kept pulling me from case to case, demanding me to show him where that orb was. I felt like my skin was going to rip off of my head! I had no idea what he was talking about!" Rose said, her voice shaking. Ron reached out and took her hand.

"I heard Scorpius yell for me, and I saw him running at us, but then he was stunned and…and…they flung him against the wall. I could hear something break. What did they want us to do? How were we supposed to know where that thing was?" Rose said, trying to keep her voice strong.

"You weren't. They were looking for an ancient Egyptian music box that was supposed to be renowned for raising the dead. Another person trying to circumvent death and gain power over other witches and wizards," Ron explained wryly. Rose nodded sagely, looking down at her clasped hands.

Hermione was relieved to realize that Ron's fears didn't come to fruition. Rose hadn't reverted back to her childhood self. Obviously her behaviour when they had first come to her was an instinctual reaction to her trauma and not something that would last. But Hermione knew that they weren't out of the woods. She knew that all too well. Only Rose was going to be better. Rose was going to talk about it. Rose wasn't going to have the nightmares and build the walls of fear around her own mind.

"I wanted to die. I was hoping they would kill me!" Rose said, shaking.

"It's okay, love…" Ron started.

"And then I heard Scorpius fighting. Whenever he stopped, I could hear the cracking and smashing of Scorpius in the background. I couldn't die yet! What if they killed him?" Rose's tears fell freely from her eyes, and Ron was handing her a tissue.

At that admission, Hermione could feel her whole body twitch slightly with the memory of pain. The numbness would come next…it always did when she remembered that horrible night in Malfoy Manor. Ron was fighting for her too, she could hear him screaming. She knew Harry and Ron were somewhere below her. She wanted to die, was close to begging for it, but she could hear Ron and she knew Harry needed her to lie. They needed her to keep going. It was so much pressure! There was the overwhelming need to give in, to let go of her mind. But there was also a determination to make it through long enough to keep Harry and Ron safe.

Hermione could feel herself closing up, trying to fight the memory with dominance. She wouldn't let that woman win; she would never give in. Hermione began burying all the fear and doubt as deep inside of her as she could, making her physically and emotionally numb. Hermione felt power in her ability to remain impervious to this aspect of her past.

She never wanted to lose control again.

"Have you ever wanted to give up? Have you ever wanted to die?" Rose asked her parents. Ron looked at Hermione with that look he only reserved for very special moments. A look that clearly said "I'd give everything to you."

"I've offered my life up a few times before," Ron said quietly, running his thumb over Rose's hand. "I know we don't talk much about the war a lot, but it's happened."

"But that was for a bigger cause! You guys were fighting; you guys were saving the world! I was just…weak," Rose said, wilting against the pillows of her bed.

"You're here though, you've made it," Ron said, kissing her hand.

"You don't understand, Dad. You don't know how it feels to want to die. To give up everything you love if it means solace from pain. Do you even know anyone who's been tortured?" Rose asked quietly. Ron looked at Hermione for just a fraction of a second, and she shook her head very slightly at his inquiring look.

They had decided to keep some things from the kids. She, Harry, and Ron had sat down one day and went over what they thought their children could know, and what could be kept between them. Hermione had quickly said her torture should never be talked about again. If she was honest, it wasn't because she was protecting her children, but out of self-preservation. She built walls around that moment, and she wasn't about to take them down and feel that way ever again.

"Well, you could talk Harry. He's been through it all," Ron said, casting small glances over at Hermione. She hated the way his eyes always penetrated all of her defences. He could see right through her.

"It's not really the same! Uncle Harry's cause was noble! He was dying so that other people had a chance," Rose said, looking out of the window forlornly.

"Rosie…" Ron said, using her childhood nickname. He leaned in close to her and hugged her tightly, pulling back to try to read her face they way he always read Hermione’s.

"It'll be okay, Dad," Rose said, smiling sadly.

Hermione felt sick to her stomach with the realization that she had failed her daughter.

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Rose's body stiffened as the painful spell washed over her yet again. It seemed to go on forever, and by the end, she was begging to die. She was begging them to end it all. Rose was offering up anything she could just to be granted the mercy of death.

She could hear Scorpius screaming her name, but every time her tear-streaked eyes could focus on him, they were taking a huge knife to his bare flesh. Whenever he raised his voice, another piece of him was cut away. As she begged for death, begged them to let him go, he yelled until he had lost an arm, a foot, and his own head. Still, the pieces of his torn up body were calling out to her in desperation. She couldn’t save him now, and she wasn't even going to bother saving herself.

She knelt in front of the large, menacing man, naked and shaking, kissing his boots. She asked him again to kill her. He grabbed her hair roughly and pulled her to her feet. He smiled, licking his lips at her, and Rose shrank away from his lecherous gaze. He yanked her hair until her head snapped back and she met his eyes. Then, he lifted his wand in between them.

"You want it, you do it," The man sneered.

Rose pressed the wand point hard against her temple, even as the sword swung down and cut off Scorpius' lips.

"Rose!" Scorpius yelled, but Rose just concentrated on dying.

"Rose! Rose!" He yelled again, though now he sounded so close to her, she spun around frantically.

"Wake up!" Scorpius yelled, and this time it came to Rose like a flood.

She could smell the clean, chemical scent of St. Mungo's. She could hear the charms clicking away to monitor her vital signs. She didn't hear her father's snores, but remembered that he and her mother had gone to do her discharge paperwork and to get her old bedroom ready. It was all just a horrible nightmare…well…this time. The memory of the pain, of the need for death, still weighed heavy in her bones like iron. A warm hand ran down the side of her face, and Rose couldn't help but sigh at the comfort.

"Scorp," She tried to finish, but her throat burned like she had been screaming for some stretch of time.

A cup of water was pressed against her lips and she tilted her head back. She attempted to focus her vision, and soon the room came back in to view, along with Scorpius' haunting light blue eyes looking back at her with worry. She gasped for a moment at the sight of him, shocked when she realized she hadn't really looked at him since the encounter in the back room all those ages ago.

There were faint pink marks all over his arms and face from where healing charms had just been cast. There was a bandage on his right arm, and a faint stain of blood could be seen blossoming on the white gauze. An angry red burn cut across his forehead, shining like it had been covered with a kind of salve. Both of his eyes were also black, as though someone had hit his face repeatedly. He wasn't cut into little pieces, but the reality was just as jarring.

"Oh Scorpius," Rose whispered, reaching up and cupping a hand to the side of his face. He leaned into it and put his hand over hers. "What did they do to you?" She asked, fresh tears threatening her.

"It's just some curse burns, one really bad gash they can't heal with magical means, and some bruises. The healing is just taking longer because it was done by magic," Scorpius said, not moving his hand from hers. "It's nothing compared to what happened to you."

Rose just looked away, unable to acknowledge how close she had come to death. Even more difficult was the fact that Scorpius was what she thought about, what she wanted to die thinking about, in those pathetically weak moments when the pain felt like too much.

She could never tell him. How would they work? How would two people so different ever be able to be in love? Sure, they could be lovers, but beyond the passion, Rose was convinced Scorpius could never cherish her like that.

"Gods, Rose, I almost lost you," He whispered, and Rose looked over to see his eyes begin to water. She couldn't help herself and ignoring all doubt, she let him pull her against his chest, and she buried her face along the smooth, warm skin of his neck. She felt warm and safe in an instant, and she felt for a moment like things might be okay. That feeling was dashed when the nightmare image of him in small pieces invaded her mind again and she flinched.

"Is everything alright," Scorpius asked, reacting to her sudden movement.

"How could anything be alright, Scorpius? I was ready to give up! I was ready to beg for death! I thought it was never going to end, and I wasn't strong enough to make it through. He had complete control over me…my life isn't my own at all," Rose said, her voice cold and biting to hide the abject despair rising in her chest.

"But you made it, you're here, and you're stronger than anyone I know. Who wouldn't want to give up when faced what you faced?" Scorpius said, stroking a soothing hand down her back.

"Uncle Harry has survived worse apparently. He came into the ward earlier and tried to help me through all of this. But…fuck! He was facing Voldemort! He had the fate of the Wizarding world to consider! I just had myself, and apparently it wasn't enough," Rose said, sobbing now.

"You had me, Rose. You'll always have me," He said quietly, his voice shaking. Rose pulled back from the embrace to see so much sincerity in his eyes that her heart raced. She doubted it immediately however, chalking it up to such a harrowing experience.

"Come on, Scorp. You and I would never work. You're just relieved I'm alive…and I can take that as compliment enough," Rose said flippantly, though her heart was breaking to pieces inside of her chest, puncturing her lungs and rendering her nearly incapable of speech. "Get serious."

"I am serious," He croaked.

Rose looked up in to his eyes and she just couldn't fight it, couldn’t deny it no matter how badly she wanted to. He put his hands on the sides of her face and kissed her gently. He had kissed her many times before, but this time was different. This time, Rose knew there was more to it, and their lips seemed to spark when they touched. He ran a tongue along her lips and she opened her mouth, relishing in the sweet taste of his tongue on hers. He hands moved up and down her back, exploring whatever they could reach, and Rose tangled her fingers in the hair falling on the nape of his neck.

They pulled away breathlessly just in time for her parents to walk in and take her home.  <<<<<<<<<<<<<<>  "Well, she's all settled into her old room," Ron said, closing the door to their bedroom. They never slept with the door closed (Crookshanks Pas Deux would never allow that), and Hermione's heart began to race with anticipation both at the potential in his physical intimacy, and if he was going to broach a subject she wasn’t quite ready to put into words yet..

Ron didn't say a word, however, and just walked up behind her, placing his hands gently on her shoulders. She was still attempting to wrangle the hair tie out of her hair that she had hastily tossed in there on her way to Rose, and tried to look as dignified as possible as she tugged at her messy brown locks. Ron smiled at her and took the stuck rubber band from her hair. His face screwed up in concentration, and Hermione smiled at how young…how like the Ron that she first fell in love with he looked. When he got the offending item out of her hair without pulling on it, he lifted it up triumphantly. Then, he unclasped the back of Hermione's necklace, taking it off and placing it in her jewellery box.  
His fingers slowly traced around her neck, meeting her eyes in the reflection of the mirror. He looked concerned; his head bend slightly in a questioning gesture. His finger ran along the thin scar on her neck and she shuddered.

Ron tried to catch her eye again in the mirror. Hermione couldn't look in his eyes or she would break down. She hid behind the ruse of pretending to be looking for something.

"Mhmmm," She said, beginning to take a comb to her hair. It was, of course, useless to even try…but desperate times call for desperate measures. She needed a distraction…something…anything. She couldn’t go down this road and she could not by any means open this wound again.

Ron stayed behind her, running his hands over her shoulders and up her neck, looking at her in the mirror as she determinedly avoided his eyes. He even looked far away and pained himself. He was obviously reliving what they went through, but then again, Ron was stronger than she was.

"I'm taking a bath," Hermione said abruptly, jumping up and bolting into the joining bathroom.

She got into the room, closed the door, and sighed. She couldn’t break down, not after all everyone has already been through. She would only make it worse. She would only put more pressure on Ron. She couldn't be weak; she would never let those memories take her over the way Bellatrix had taken her over that night. The woman had no power over her.

Hermione pulled her robe from the door and carefully hung it on the hook. She got out candles and bath salts to adorn her water. She added some lavender bubble bath and dimmed the lights. She turned the water on full blast and stepped into her deep tub.

Finally, she sat down and breathed a sigh of relief. She could barely hear herself think over the water, but soon the water would stop. She flicked her wand and started the CD player with some of her favourite Joni Mitchell songs, and pulled her legs up to her chest as the hot water got deeper and deeper, immersing her in bubbles.

Then, Hermione sobbed, harder than she had sobbed since that horrible night.  
  
Moon in the mirror,  
Won't you stay a while tonight?  
All things of beauty  
Are too soon out of sight.

She cried for her daughter, thrown into the path of something that was supposed to have gone long ago. She cried for her husband, carrying the weight of the world on his jovial shoulders. She cried for her son, and the rage that coursed through him like fire on a line of kerosene that had never been lit before. And Hermione cried for herself, for that little piece of herself that was forever lost.  
  
Moon in the mirror, look below you.  
Moon's looking back and they're loving  
And longing and telling no lies.

The last shred of her innocence died the night Bellatrix Lestrange tortured her. Even the day before, she had drawn her name and Ron's name in little hearts in the margin of her Beedle the Bard book. She had fought, had experienced loss, and had sacrificed her need for her parents just to keep them safe, but she still had something of that little girl who stubbornly read every book she found and was obsessed with wearing ribbons in her absurd hair. She never saw that girl again after Malfoy Manor.

Hermione promised herself, after she woke up in Shell Cottage with Ron sobbing on her chest, that she would never let someone take anything from her again. She would never let what Bellatrix did tear her apart. She couldn't be weak. Even after the war was won, Hermione knew never to give in to the fear, the lack of control that came from the minutes of hell she had burned through. Hermione filled herself with stone, and supported as much of the world as she could.

Sure, she had nightmares, but she would wake up and tell herself to stop being ridiculous. And of course, there were times when she found herself crying on Ron, but she could explain this in a momentary lapse, and not the crippling fear accidentally peaking through her skin. Hermione had made it, and she wasn't about to look back.

_Oh, how my heart tried to fight him,_  
Fight against mirrors of moonlight  
Or love light. You lost from the start,  
From the start 

The water was high enough now, but Hermione couldn’t lift her head from her knees to turn it off. She felt like she was going to drown anyway, she might as well realize the metaphor. Her daughter, her first born, the angel she had sworn from the moment she met to protect was now feeling that same sense of loss and was now saying goodbye to innocence and security. Hermione couldn’t even fathom Rose's pain, but if it mirrored her own, Hermione worried that Rose may do as she did, and turn to stone. She wanted Rose to talk about it, to let it out, to face the demon and not live with it on her back for her entire life. The weight got too heavy, and sometimes Hermione couldn't breathe. She didn't want that for Rose.

But Hermione was a coward. She couldn’t explain to Rose what happened. She couldn't articulate how well she knew what was going through Rose's head. She didn't have the spine to reveal to her daughter how close she came to giving in to the madness, to death. Her little girl needed her right now, and she was, quivering in an overly-scented bath and fearing her own shadow.

She felt Ron's hand close over her shoulder, and she pulled away, ashamed at how weak she was. He persisted, running a hand down her back and leaning in slightly to press a kiss to her shoulder. She kept her head turned; she couldn’t face him, and let her secret out. She had never even told her own husband that the evening she was tortured still haunted her. She just couldn't let it all come out again. Hermione nearly shook with the effort to keep it in.

She felt the tingle of magic as Ron turned off the water. Hermione hadn't even realized that the water was still running, but at that moment found that the soapy lather at the top of the waterline had reached her shoulders. She kept her head turned to the side even as she heard a rustle of fabric. She was vaguely curious as to what her husband was doing, but she was also too gripped with the pain of memory to care much. She jumped lightly when she felt the flannel brush across her back.

"Shhhhh. S'alright, love. Just thought I'd help things along," Ron croaked, his voice so gentle that Hermione felt instant comfort and instant foolishness in one deep, shuddering breath.

She sat still as he slowly washed her back, soothing her clenching muscles and easing her headache slightly. She leaned back obediently when he waved his wand and set a stream of water over her hair, relishing in the feeling of his hands digging into her messy curls to lather the shampoo into it. She always loved it when he washed her hair, and she usually laughed and moaned when his large hands would massage her scalp. She stayed silent this time, as did he, the only sound their deep breathing. However, Hermione found herself despairing less and thinking a little more clearly. Ron always had the power to get her out of that room at Malfoy Manor before her mind trapped her in there yet again. When the warm water cascaded down her head and neck to get the soap out, Hermione could feel her neck arching into the heat.

He pushed her back against the back end of the tub, and Hermione looked up at him to see that he was shirtless and covered in sweat as a result of the steamy room. Even in her darkest emotional states, he was beautiful to look at. She always saw him as a metaphorical light. When she woke up in Bill and Fleur's home after that awful ordeal, seeing him there next to her had an instant effect on her physical state. She needed him more than she could ever even articulate…even after so many years of marriage. She closed her eyes again and he dragged the flannel over her bare legs and lingered at her chest.

He reached down toward her centre, and she couldn't help but spread her legs for him. His strong hand through the damp cloth sent electricity through Hermione's body, but she couldn't relent, couldn't moan to encourage him farther. With the lightning strikes of memory swiping across any calm that Ron was providing, she couldn't war with her two sides in this moment. She allowed him to continue, and then pull the stopper out of the claw footed tub. When the water was almost gone, he helped her up, and she steeped into the plush white towel that was waiting in his arms.

She walked into the towel and he wrapped it, and his arms around her. She burrowed her nose against his chest, and she felt his body shake slightly. She pulled back to see a tear going down his cheek, and Hermione lost control all over again. They stood there crying against each other for an indeterminable amount of time before Ron finally pulled back and ran a thumb down her cheek.

"It was just a little familiar today, yeah?" Ron said, his voice hoarse.

"I thought we had fought so that our children would never have to feel that way," Hermione cried.

"All we can do is make sure she makes it through," Ron said. "I just, I can't stop thinking about that night. I couldn't get to you! You were screaming over and over again, and I couldn't find a way to even see you."

"Oh Ron! Make it go away…just make it disappear for a little while," Hermione cried.

Ron bent down and kissed her, moving his hands up to cup the back of her sodden head.  
She's made this request of him a few times before, when the ghost of pain…the memory became too much. She always needed him, but sometimes she needed him so much that he was the only person who could help her remember everything that they had gained during the war instead of everything she had lost. Every time she would melt into his touch and let him slowly take her, replacing whatever was invading her soul with his own.

The towel fell from her and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He carried her to their high poster bed and laid her down carefully before covering her body with his own. On some occasions, he would throw her down on the bed, rip her clothes off, and take her roughly. Other times, she would be hungry and raving and needing him immediately and as hard as possible. But in moments like this, when she looked up at him with watery eyes and begged him to make it all okay, they were impossibly slow, feeling every inch of each other and sending it to their memories to replace whatever dark force had taken them over.  
  
Ron's fingertips were hot as they travelled over her cooled skin. His large hands wrapped around her hips and his mouth was on hers with a simmering passion. She lifted a leg up, wrapping it around his hips as she moved her mouth to kiss along the shell of his ear and over the nape of his neck. She let her lips slide over the stubble that had grown on his chin after inattentive days at the hospital, and gloried in the prickly feeling. Hermione breathed in deeply. Of course, he smelled like lavender bath salts and her moisturizing shampoo, but there was always that smell of dirt and food that was uniquely Ron. The clean, cold smell of the hospital and the memory of that stagnant smell at Malfoy Manor began to disappear with each breath Hermione took.  
  
She gasped when his warm mouth closed over one of her nipples, his tongue dancing languidly over the sensitive skin until she could feel them tighten into peaks. Her deep breaths were replaced with short ones as his lips began to travel down her abdomen, but as it always was in times like this, he moved very slowly. Her hands were gripping his thick shoulders tightly now, knowing that in a few more inches, his lips would brush against her centre. She wanted to cry out, she wanted to beg for it, but she was glowing in the silence...in the sound of his subtle moans and his lips smacking on her skin. One of his hands closed over hers on his shoulder before his tongue swiped across her folds.

  
Her knees bent then, as the muscles in her hips and legs tighten. He took his fingers and spread her open, so his mouth could glide over and over her. It was so tortuously slow, that Hermione thought she might die before she came. But the climax came so slowly, she wasn't even aware she was there until Ron's fingers were entering her and she was suddenly trembling. The orgasm rolled through her like it would never end, creating the perfect dissonance to the never-ending feeling of pain that she was once again trying to forget.  
  
Ron's lips dragged back up her body, and when her eyes were finally able to meet his, they were so bright and intuitive that Hermione had to fight not to shrink away. He understood…he’d always understood. She reached down and slowly unzipped his jeans. She wrapped her hand around his throbbing erection. She forced herself not to close her eyes, but kept them trained on Ron's face. He threw his head back and bit his lip, the same way he had done on their first time in the frenzied hours after Harry had defeated Voldemort. Hermione's mouth watered at the pulse point throbbing against the skin of his neck. She moved her hand up and down as her lips connected with that specific spot.

Ron let out a needy groan and placed his large hand on the small of Hermione's back, pulling her tightly against him. Her naked flesh against his was a perfect solace, and she echoed his need with the vibrations of her own voice. He opened his eyes then, peering back into hers with a burning need. She slowly wound her hand around him, reaching down the back of his pants and beginning to slide them down his hips

Hermione loved Ron like this. She loved it when he relinquished his tenuous control and let her explore him the way he always explored her. She pulled his jeans and pants off, running her hands slowly up his thighs. Her own thighs rubbed together with need. She needed to feel him inside of her; she needed him to be the most powerful part of her right now, so that she didn't lose herself in doubt. Hermione flicked her tongue a few times around her husband's cock, but she couldn't be patient any longer, and she placed a knee on either side of his hips and lowered herself onto him quickly. He couldn't stay silent.

"Oh Hermione," he moaned, his long arms reaching up to wrap around her back and pulled her down to his chest. It wasn't the most fruitful position to be in, but on nights like these, Hermione just wanted to be close to him. He continued to thrust up as she undulated her hips.

Her body began to tense up again; she could feel the heat coiling around her middle. Ron could feel it too, because he bit his lip again and flipped them over. Now he was on his hands, hovering over her, his long, broad body covering hers like a protective blanket. He reached down and grabbed her thigh, lifting up her leg so he could thrust more quickly, more deeply into her. She could feel every inch of him, going in and out at a slow pace, as though they were committing everything to memory.

Ron dipped his head down and pressed it to the small scar on her neck, the final act in this exchange, and the one that always sent her over the edge. She came hard, clenching around him, and he began to pulse inside of her. She felt like she was no longer her own anymore, and the release gave her more freedom than any of her quiet moments alone.  
  
Ron's lips finally moved slightly off of her scar as they rode out the last of their climax.

"Mine," He whispered, his voice gentle, but his intent clear. That scar against his lips, the whisper in her ear wasn't a reminder of her pain; it wasn't a reminder of the time she almost gave up. It's a reminder of what was always waiting for her on the other side.

Hours later, Hermione was still lying awake. Her soul was at rest, but her mind and her heart were racing. She'd been staring at the moon through the billowy white curtains of their room, and she knew that she couldn't hide any longer. Her daughter needed her, her daughter needed to know that someone understood. The threads of pain Hermione had been holding on to needed to be thrown against the wind before it threatened to crush her daughter as well.

"Do you want me to go with you?" Ron said, placing a hand on her leg. She didn't need to explain where she's going, he already knew.

Hermione tied her fluffy purple bathrobe around her waist and tossed on some knickers and the ridiculous bunny slippers Ron got her for Christmas some years ago. She shuffled down to Rose's childhood bedroom and paused at the doorway, watching the gentle rise and fall of her adult child's night-time breathing. When she started to flail around in an inevitable nightmare, Hermione would be at her side with a cup of tea and a story that she prayed would help her daughter to move on…to keep control.

 

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Scorpius stood in front of the mirror in his bathroom, tracing the faint lines of the scars and bruises on his face and neck. The marks were already beginning to fade, and Scorpius was more than pleased at the work the healers had done at St. Mungo's. His recovery was swift and he was back at home within a day of the attack.

It took Rose longer, and Scorpius went and saw her every day. The sound of her screams invaded his nightmares and the memory of it ripped at his chest and threatened to tear him apart. Azkaban wasn't good enough for these men, and Scorpius made a point to talk to his father about using his money and influence to get the harshest punishment imaginable. The thought didn't come anywhere near satisfying Scorpius, however, and he just wished he could have been awake to help Hugo Weasley fuck up the wizard who had so cowardly tortured Rose. Not one usually prone to fits of rage, Scorpius couldn't help but slam his fist into the wall suddenly, remembering the way Rose clung to him after her nightmare. He thought back to the gigantic wizard grabbing her beautiful hair roughly in his fist and dragging her around the room, and Scorpius’ own fist rose against the tiled wall. Blow after blow punctuated each echo of a scream in his mind until Scorpius couldn't handle the sting on his hands any longer. By the time he had finished barraging the walls with his fists, he had five holes to fix, and two broken knuckles to heal. He wiped the sweat from his face and finished dressing.

His father would have reprimanded him for losing so much control over his emotions.

"Malfoys do not let their impulses overpower them," he would say, but Scorpius had never been as much of a Malfoy as his father would have liked. Sure, he looked like a Malfoy, with his bright hair and pointed features, but it stopped there. Scorpius was built much broader, looking like a sturdier Greengrass than a Malfoy, though he was still quite thin by comparison to blokes like Hugo Weasley. Feeling slightly eased by his impromptu exercise, Scorpius closed his eyes and thought of Rose.

He couldn’t wait for the day he could call her "His Rose." He imagined the way her face looked when she let herself go and gave over to him, those beautiful red lips pressing in a hard line as she lost control. He could feel her arms wrap around him, and her long legs do the same around his waist. His hands flexed at the memory of her narrow hips and smooth, milky skin. Scorpius felt a blush rising to his cheeks when he remembered demanding that she call him by his name. He always asked that of her, forcing her into an intimacy that separated the Rose he knew from the one he encountered outside of their interludes.

Scorpius' heart sank a little at the thought that it would likely take her a long time to feel safe, to feel content enough to give in again. But Scorpius was nothing if not patient, and if the light of the end of the tunnel shone on Rose, he was sure he could handle any darkness. He met his eyes in the mirror again, willing himself not to go too soft, or he's sure his father will notice that he looks like a love struck little girl.

The faint ping of a charm signalled Scorpius that someone had come through the wards. He went downstairs to greet the visitor, as it was likely his Grandmother checking up on him. When Scorpius opened the door, he was shocked to find Rose standing there. She was in a nightshirt and a pair of Wellingtons, a cloak thrown hastily around her shoulders. Her hair was a wild mess around her head, and her face was paler than he had ever seen it. Scorpius couldn't help but gasp faintly.

"Rose! What's going on? Are you okay?" Scorpius said, reaching out to her as he opened the door farther.

Rose ignored him and walked into the main hall, standing under the silver chandelier, directly in the centre of the intricately designed Oriental rug. She stood stock-still and silent, looking at the ceiling as though something was about to fall on her at any moment. Her body was trembling and her knees kept looking like they were going to give out. Scorpius called her name softly, walking toward her carefully.

"Scorpius, who came through the wards?" He father came in from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel.

At the sound of his voice, Rose's head snapped, and her wide, wild eyes locked onto Draco. Scorpius could see her jaw muscles fluttering as Draco made his way toward them.

"Hello Miss Weasley, I trust you are well?" Draco said, giving no indication that he even noticed Rose's odd appearance.

"What? Do you think I'd be half crazy by now! Thought I'd never leave St. Mungo's, did you? Bet you wish I would have stayed there," Rose was screeching at Draco, her arms flailing wildly.

"That's preposterous, I…" Draco said, he had dropped his towel in shock, and his normally cool demeanour had been replaced with intense apprehension.

"You should have known I would make it! My mother did, didn't she?" Rose said, moving close to Draco and drawing her wand. Scorpius was shocked to see understanding fall over his father's face. "Is this where it happened? Are there still blood stains?"

"Rose, what's going on?" Scorpius said, attempting to put a hand on her shoulder.

"What, Scorpius? Did you get off on watching me get tortured? Is that why you kissed me the way you did? Are you a sick bastard like your father? It's in your blood, after all!" Rose's face was wet with tears and her mouth was completely contorted with rage. She looked at Scorpius with unadulterated hate, and a pain that rivalled what he saw that night in the Artefacts department.

"Asteria, honey, I need you to send a Patronus to Mr. And Mrs. Weasley right now," Draco said, fearful.

Scorpius barely registered his father's words. He was too busy searching Rose's eyes, trying to understand the raw anger he saw there. He could feel himself falling apart just watching her.

"Rose, why are you doing this? I would never want to see you hurt. How could you think that?" Scorpius reached for her  
  
"Don't touch me!" Rose screamed, falling to the floor and curling up in a ball. She was shaking violently and murmuring something under her breath. Her shirt rode up and her blue knickers were exposed, but she didn’t appear to care.

The front door slammed open and Rose's family came rushing into the room. Mr. Weasley immediately took off his cloak and laid it over her daughter, who screamed louder at the contact. Hugo handed his father a potion that Scorpius recognized as calming draught, and Mr. Weasley fed it to his daughter slowly, trying to soothe her. Meanwhile, Mrs. Weasley was looking panicked at his father.

"I'm so sorry Mal…Draco. I thought telling her might make her cope better, make her feel less alone," she said very quietly, seeming afraid to meet Draco's eyes. His father just sighed and hung his head.

"It's okay. I understand. I've just got to find the words to explain what is going on to my son now," Draco croaked. Scorpius jumped at the realization that he would soon find out what had Rose on the floor rocking and crying.

"Would you like me to stay behind for a moment?" Rose's mum said gently as Hugo came up behind her, looking just as curious as Scorpius felt.

"No, look after your daughter…I'm…I'm sorry," Scorpius' father said, looking genuinely ashamed. It was an emotion he had never seen on his father's face. Mrs. Weasley just nodded and joined her husband at the Floo. Hugo remained standing just behind Scorpius.

"If it's not so much trouble, Mr. Malfoy, I'd like to know what's going on as well," Hugo said. Draco nodded slightly and gestured for them to take their seats in the small sitting area off to the side of the main foyer.

When Draco had finished telling the story of how Ron, Hermione and Harry were caught and Hermione subsequently tortured, he looked exhausted. Scorpius knew that his father was a Death Eater, albeit coerced, and that this very house had been used as headquarters to The Dark Lord himself. Scorpius had no idea how much cruelty had occurred in his home, however, and how much his father had been witness to. It made his stomach drop in pity not only for Rose's family, but for his own father as well. To see all of that and feel powerless to stop it must have been horrifying.

The thought that Rose somehow blamed his father, and by extension him, and saw his entire family as disgusting and cruel broke Scorpius' heart. He couldn't even fathom how he would be able to love her now. Hell, did he even want to after the shame that he saw in his father's eyes now took up residence in his own chest? Scorpius was broken from this sad thought by the sound of Hugo rising and clearing his throat.

"Thank you for letting me hear that," Hugo said. He walked up to Draco and held out his hand. A little bit of pride went back into Draco's eyes as he shook Hugo's hand firmly. Hugo just nodded and turned to go.

"Scorpius, I think we should meet for drinks in a few days…when things cool off," Hugo said, shoving his large hands into his pockets.

"Yeah, thanks…I….yeah," Scorpius said, eager to talk about this with someone, but also eager to get into his room and drown in his thoughts.

With that, Hugo left out the front door, and Scorpius was left sitting next to his father, both of them staring silently into the fire.

(((((((((((((((())))))))))))))))))))))))

)  
  
Rose smiled slightly as she looked at herself in the full-length mirror. She was wearing a short, red dress, covered in sequins. It was garish to say the least, and clashed horribly with her skin tone and bright hair. Christmas was always her favourite time of year, and one of the reasons was that she could wear red and damn the consequences! She placed some strategic sprigs of Holly in her intricately designed hair before spraying a very small amount of spiced perfume.   
  
"Lovely as always, dear, but might I suggest a different colour dress?" The mirror said to her primly.  
  
"Not today! It's Christmas!" Rose said happily, practically skipping over to her bed to put on her red heels.   
  
Halfway to her bed, Rose stopped short and her good mood fell. There, on her bureau was Scorpius, staring at her smugly. It was the picture of the day she got Head Girl, and her portrait self and Scorpius were currently shoving each other aside to fight for the attention. An ache began to form in her stomach as Rose let her eyes linger on his painfully familiar face. She tried to compel herself to put the picture face down, as she had done with all the others, but yet again she could not.  
  
It had been six months. Six months since she went through the most horrible experience of her life. Six months since her mother told her of her similar experience. Six months since Rose showed up at Malfoy Manor to say horrifying things to Scorpius. Six months since she fell in love. It was her self-imposed punishment, the payment for the broken look on his face when she accused him of the unthinkable, that she could never have what she wanted…she could never feel his love again.  
  
Rose willed her eyes not to water, worried that the glitter would come off of her face as she remembered every letter she sent back to him without reading, how she warded her flat to him, and how she quickly took a new internship in Egypt without telling anyone but her parents and Uncle Bill. All was meant to hurt her as much as she hurt him, and if the look on his face was any indicator, she hadn't even scratched the surface.   
  
But tonight was Gran's annual Christmas Day Extravaganza, and Rose needed so badly to have one day of happiness. So she took a deep breath, checked her ostentatious, glittering makeup, and made her way to the Apparation point. Her spirits were reasonably high when she finally lifted her wand and Apparated to The Burrow.  
  
The smell of meat and puddings wafted out of the front door as it was flung open to greet Rose. James was standing there, festive hat askew, with green garland strung around his neck. He looked well and pissed already, and it was only 4 pm.   
  
"The prodigal cousin returns!" He shouted, sloshing his glass of what looked like scotch around.  
  
"You know very well I'm anything but prodigal! I may have been in Egypt, but I kept a flat here, and I was always within reach!" Rose said with mock severity.  
  
"Whatever," James slurred, tipping back the rest of his drink.   
  
Rose made her way through the cramped kitchen and into the living room, greeting cousins, aunts, and uncles along the way. She found her parents huddled together in a corner, her father kissing her mother gently, and she couldn't help but smile. As gross as it was, she was happy her parents were so close. She walked over to them and announced her presence, delighting in the warm hugs from each of them despite the fact they had just seen her last week.   
  
"Where's Hugo?" Rose asked, suddenly aware of a sizable missing person.  
  
"He'll be along shortly, just had to pick up a mate," Ron said, his face looking red as he took another sip of mulled mead. Blimey, was everyone an early drunk today?  
  
"Before you even ask, no it's not a girl. Apparently Hugo finds dating to be a waste of time. Just a mate who's thinking of renting a flat with him," Hermione said, and she thankfully didn't slur her words at all.   
  
Rose made herself comfortable near the tree, enjoying her own glass of something Al made and catching up with Roxanne and Lily. They may have been a few years behind her, but the girls had formed a nice friendship over their lives. When Rose categorically denied meeting any Egyptian hunks, Roxanne finally burst out that she was in love. The three girls had a good laugh over the smitten Roxy while the alcohol and sweets kept coming.  
  
About an hour after arriving, James was again at the door, and a raucous shout of "Hugo!" Could be heard waving throughout the crowded little house. Rose leapt up, eager to see her little brother, whom she hadn't seen in nearly a month. With her head fuzzy and her knees wobbly, she rushed her longs legs toward the door, pushing aside the greeting throng to give her brother a gigantic and mirthful hug. She let out a laugh and her heel twisted. She fell immediately into his arms.  
  
Hugo seemed to have lost a few inches of height as Rose's head was lined up with his. And were his shoulders thinner? Rose tried to regain her balance, to lean back and ask her brother what happened, but her heel snapped and her tenuous balance was all but gone.   
  
"Easy there," A deep, melodic voice…decidedly not Hugo's…said lightly in her ear.  
  
For a split second, Rose thought her heart had stopped. She breathed in deeply, jarred by the sudden familiar scent assaulting her nerves. She pulled back, feeling as though her entire body was in slow motion, and met those startling blue eyes. He was here, he was touching her, and he was real. Rose could barely breathe as her eyes focused on Scorpius' face. She wanted to fall into his arms and cry, but the memory of the hurt on his bruised face was enough to push her away.  
  
Rose needed escape, but recognized her own inebriation enough to know she couldn't Apparate. She looked back over at the fireplace to see her parents still canoodling and knew she couldn't go that way either. She quickly backed away, abandoning her broken shoes, and rushed quickly up the steps. She felt ridiculous even as she did it, but she needed out…she needed to catch her breath and sober up.  
  
She summoned the sober-up potion that her Gran wisely kept in the upstairs bathroom, turning into the first open and available room. She slammed the door and locked it with her wand, tipping back the potion greedily and willing her heart to slow down. Her head immediately cleared, and with it came the stabbing pain of memory that months of avoidance could only suppress and not dull.   
  
She sat heavily on the bed, vaguely aware by the décor that she must have been in her Aunt Ginny's old room. Rose could still see the man who attacked her, his face a permanent scar in her mind. His name was Murchison, and he was currently ensconced in Azkaban, but that didn't dampen the crippling fear that joined memories of him. She could feel her body beginning to shake, but she knew how to deal with these feelings.   
  
Months of therapy guaranteed she had the tools she needed to end the panic.  
  
Beyond Murchison was something that Rose wouldn’t even talk about, something she would push as far away from her mind as she could. The need she felt for Scorpius was so strong, that sometimes she felt she'd rather run to him than do anything else at all. She couldn't have him and she knew that. After all they went through, after what she did, and what their parents experienced, they just could never be. That thought alone would threaten to hurt her beyond repair, so she let it go.  
  
Seeing that mythical Him again, feeling his touch in an unprepared instance, had taken away any composure she had. The stiff hold she had on her recovery was solid, and would not shake, but the one holding on to her heart had snapped in two the instant her eyes met his. She had no idea how she would ever leave that room again, and resigned to sob until she figured out what to do. She ignored every gentle knock and insistent voice on the other side of the scrubbed white door and focused on the morbid look of tears and glitter falling onto her bare knees.   
  
The door slammed open, and Scorpius rushed in before Rose had time to leap up and run.  
  
"I'm sorry, Rose. I'm sorry. I'm sorry! Please, just forgive me," Scorpius said, his eyes wild and desperate. "I've tried living without you, but after that day in the hospital, when you gave me hope that we could be something more…I can't think about anything else!" Scorpius said, his deep voice becoming slightly strident.  
  
"Scorpius, I can't…I just…what happened…" Rose stumbled over her words, trying to explain what was screaming in her mind: _"I accused you of cruel things, I accused your family. Our families could never survive this!"_  
  
Rose's entire body froze when Scorpius dropped to his knees in front of her. "I don't know what else I can do. Tell me what I have to do to make you forgive me! I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I'm sorry my family did what they did to your family. I promise I'll do anything, just don't push me away again!" Scorpius was desperate, and Rose was nauseous.  
.  
She had oftener considered the harrowing ordeal of her attack to be her defining moment…her 'Do or Die' instance. She kept going, she kept her mind strong, and she pushed through. Her mother helped her, but Rose was stronger because she made it through. However, seeing Scorpius' face looking up at her, hearing his voice so cracked and pleading, it was all Rose could do to keep from entertaining the notion of pure self loathing rising up in her throat.  
  
"Scorpius…don't…" Rose said. Her body was trembling again. If any moment was 'Do or Die' it was this one. She could run, she could ignore this. After the hols, she could take a permanent job in Egypt and pretend that this had never happened. She could send Scorpius away and eat her own shame, wallowing in her self-hatred until it consumed her. Or she could finally take the leap, the real one, the only one left to take.   
  
Rose slid off the bed, her exposed knees falling hard against the wooden floor, her hands holding herself up on Scorpius' shoulders. She could feel him tense up; hear the breath leave his lungs at her closeness. She took a deep, trembling breath and pressed her nose in Scorpius' neck, letting her lips place gentle kisses along the soft skin there.   
  
"Rose," Scorpius croaked, his hands coming up to grip tightly at the back of her dress. She could hear his breathing quicken, his chest rising and falling heavily beneath her.  
  
"Don't apologize for any of that, ever again. Let's leave all of the apologies behind. I've been living in 'sorry' for too many months now. I didn't even realize how miserable it was in that dark place. I need you, more than I can ever understand. I don't want to ignore you anymore…I can't. I only ask that you forgive me one last time for not realizing how much I needed you until you came and threw everything back at me. Please, Scorpius, let's start again," Rose said, hot tears cascading down her cheeks as she kissed any spot on Scorpius she could reach.  
  
"I love you…" He whispered, and Rose was shocked at how quickly she accepted this as fact. It was like the last six months hadn't happened, and they were continuing on that night in the hospital.   
  
The blankness in her chest was filling, and Rose felt almost trite in how it seemed that love really was all she needed. If she hadn't had felt so utterly brilliant, utterly unburdened in that moment, she might have laughed at herself. All of the hurdles ahead of her seemed to get monumentally smaller now that she had come over the giant slope she hadn't realized she was climbing. As Scorpius' lips found hers, and gently pressed kiss after kiss upon them, Rose could do no more analyzing, no more thinking. She simply threaded her hands in his hair and let out a sigh she had been holding in for six months.  
  
“Charlie!” A raucous chorus of multi-tonal cheers erupted from somewhere downstairs, nearly shaking the floorboards of Aunt Ginny’s old room.  
  
“We should really get down there. I do not even want to imagine what would happen if we’ve been gone too suspiciously long,” Rose smiled.   
  
Scorpius grinned in that charming way that Rose hadn’t even realized she loved so much, and held out his hand to her. She let her hand linger on his for a second; enjoying how warm his touch was, even in such a subtle gesture, before getting up herself. She would never tell anyone this, especially after teasing Roxanne, but her knees were incredibly weak upon standing.   
  
They walked reluctantly into the hallway, and Rose felt compelled to pull Scorpius back against her. His body ran into her hard, but she didn’t mind. She buried her face in his shoulder, wrapped her arms around his waist, and breathed in deeply. She wasn’t better, not by a long shot. Sure, the therapy helped, but Rose spent a lot of time lying to herself that she would be okay.  
  
“Everything is going to be alright, Rose,” Scorpius whispered, kissing the shell of her ear.  
  
Gods, it almost felt like the truth coming from him. Rose had to steady herself before they walked down the stairs.  
  
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ginny shouted, and Rose jumped, but didn’t tear her hand from his.   
  
When she rounded the corner into the kitchen, however, all she saw was her family surrounding the tables. Some were laughing, some were trying not to laugh, and the rest…well everyone besides Aunt Ginny were laughing. It appeared as though James had decided to pass out in Gran’s buttermilk mashed potatoes just before they were about to serve dinner. All Rose could see was a shock of bright red hair spiking out from the white clumps. Uncle Harry was laughing hysterically even as he and Al were trying to pull James up out of the potatoes.  
  
Lily flicked her wand, and the potatoes went flying out of James’ ears and mouth and all over the room. A large clump of potatoes hit Rose in the face, and she froze, both disgusted and filled with the need to laugh uncontrollably. She felt a brush over her face, and as her vision cleared, she saw Scorpius smirking at her. He was wiping her face off with the sleeve of his robes.   
  
“You’re going to ruin your poncy expensive clothes,” Rose said sardonically, though her grin was unmistakable.   
  
“Well, you’ll just have to help me out of them, won’t you,” He said, getting the last of the potatoes off of her face and kissing her lips softly. Rose kissed back, letting the contact linger just a little bit longer.  
  
When they finally pulled away, after Rose placed another light kiss on his irresistible neck, the once chaotic kitchen was quiet. Rose’s entire body tensed up as she realized the entire family (besides James, who had curled up on the floor) was watching her. Rose fumbled, and Scorpius gripped her hand tightly. After what seemed like the longest silence in the history of the Wizarding World, Hugo cleared his throat and Gran jumped up.  
  
“Let’s eat!” she said, quickly ushering everyone back to the table. Ron sputtered for a second, but Hermione was already shoving him into a chair.  
  
Scorpius looked at her, his cheeks bright red, and took her plate from her. When he set it back down in front of her, it was piled high with buttermilk potatoes.   
  
Maybe The Weasley family was drunk enough for another food fight.

 


End file.
